


Whalien

by softnotlizzie (orphan_account)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Smp, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lmanburg, M/M, Revolution, War, lmanberg, minecraft youtubers - Freeform, smp war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/softnotlizzie
Summary: The SMP is in chaos, Pogtopia left with fragile allies and no leverage. They face more than they ever have, with less support than ever before. Wilbur is just days away from taking it all away, and destroying everything they've worked for and Tommy, no matter how much he curses, cannot do anything to stop him. When a mysterious and faceless boy shows up in Pogtopia with endless resources and unbelievable skills claiming no motive but to fight for Pogtopia, the boys are understandably cautious. However, they've little choice left.
Relationships: none yet
Kudos: 7





	1. Taste of the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing for AO3, though I've done stuff on other sites before. I wrote this mainly to appease myself because I had the storyline in my head while trying to sleep for a good while. I have a bit more written but I'm just posting a bit so I can get a feel of the reception. Let me know what you think! Thanks!
> 
> Please head to my Tumblr at softnotlizzie if you want to talk or want to get updates! I also just generally ramble, but sometimes it's funny!

It was cold in Pogtopia.

As Eli sat entirely by himself at the bottom of one of the tiniest ravines he’d ever come across, he began to rethink his decision for the first time since that first spark of the idea entered his head the day he rose to power. And yet it was only for one reason, that being that Eli was a small boy, and he was very sensitive, and he was starting to really question if he was going to be able to withstand the temperatures down here. After all, if things went according to his plan—and let’s be honest here; they almost never did--, Eli would be calling this place home, at least for now. 

Of course, there was the chance that the Pogtopians would refuse him. However, it was an off chance, considering how foolish it would be on their part. Given the resources he’d come bearing, not only would they be stupid to turn him away, they’d be stupid to be giving him off to switch sides.

And again, for the sake of honesty, Eli had to admit that on his level of pettiness, this option wasn’t entirely negligible. 

He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait for much longer. It had been a good while since he’d had to keep his mask (the figurative one) one for so long at one time. In his base about two miles beneath the sea, it wasn’t necessary to hide from the zombies and the spiders. 

It seemed, however, that the Pogtopians were taking their time this wintry morning. Eli couldn’t count on one hand the number of hours he’d spent in this pit. He’d started out pacing the restless energy away but had long since given in to the urge to sit down, placing himself directly next to the nether portal in the ravine to appease his subconscious need to create the most efficient escape plan. Those warriors just a few earthly layers above him had absolutely no time for sleeping in, though, and he found himself hoping that they were at least being productive elsewhere. While he wanted to offer his services, it would be extremely painful if he was forced to drag them in line as well. 

Eli rested his masked cheek on his fist. Through the black face-covering, he could feel the metal of his ring, cooled a good few degrees due to the temperature in his environment. 

Good gods. I will not be defeated by the fucking cold, he reasoned. 

Finally, and he truly meant that in the most exasperated tone he could muster, Eli’s well-trained senses picked up the scuffle of feet on stone, accompanied with the voice of the one and only Tommy Innit. Eli could hear that boy from miles away. He was Eli’s perfect foil. 

Surprisingly enough, Tubbo was the first to spot him. He simply froze, in poor survival skills, and stared at Eli for probably too long. Eli dragged himself to his feet and stared back, waiting for Tubbo to call for reinforcements, because he simply couldn’t be bothered to explain himself more than once.

“Hey, yeah, Wilbur,” is what Tubbo ultimately came up with, and Eli fought a smirk despite the fact that 90% of his face was completely obstructed from outsider view. “I think you’d find it beneficial to meet me down by the nether portal.”

Eli barely withheld the snort at those choice of words. They appealed stunningly to Eli’s dry and underwhelming sense of humor. He was forced to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to be amused by the situation, and Wilbur would certainly not take him seriously if he could not contain a fit of giggles.

“Is something wrong?” came Wilbur’s voice. Eli shivered slightly at the deep tone, then quickly shook off any thoughts about whatever the fuck that meant for him. The concern in Wilbur’s voice was endearing, and Eli was once again reminded of just one of the reasons why he’d come here in the first place.

Eli watched as Tubbo bit his lip and finally shifted on his feet, still not breaking eye contact. “I’m…not sure,” Tubbo murmured. Luckily, Wilbur was apparently close enough to hear it.

He began to question Tubbo, but trailed off when he rounded the corner by the potato farm and caught sight of Eli as well. Once again, the situation became unnecessarily funny at the completely bewildered expression Wilbur was sporting. 

Tommy and Techno, unsurprisingly, bounded in soon after, becoming quickly alert at the confusion and tension in the air.

Tommy was the first to speak.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Classic Tommy. 

“Your newest friend. Your most powerful ally. Your…worst nightmare,” Eli responded, biting his tongue with a hidden grin. He wondered if they could see it in his eyes.

Tommy sneered. “Okay, cool it, Batman. You have ten seconds to explain yourself before I fucking shoot you—”

“Okay! Tommy, that’s enough.” Wilbur took control of the situation, angling his body towards Tommy and silently urging him to put the bow away. “But, yes, please do explain yourself, if you don’t mind.”

And people thought he was a dictator. Eli was beginning to wonder how Wilbur had ever gotten control, especially over Tommy and Techno Blade, both of which were far too indignant for the soft tone Wilbur had immediately taken on when speaking to Eli.

“Call me Whalien. And, I did mean the first two. If we could just skip the boring part when I give you my tragic backstory and reveal my deepest wants and wishes, we can get to the good stuff and get to work.”

“Get to work? Doing what? You have a tragic backstory? And what is a Whalien?” Tubbo fired questions at him instantly, and really, Eli should’ve expected this one.

He found himself rolling his eyes with a sigh. “I just said we could skip that part, Tubbo. If you don’t mind, I’d love to move on.”

Wilbur narrowed his eyes and moved to a defensive stance. Ah, there he was. “How the fuck do you know his name?”

“I know lots and lots, Wilbur. I know more than you do. Now, if you’d just let me get this over with, maybe I’ll answer some of your frankly intrusive questions to, like, strengthen the bond or whatever.” The irritation was entirely faked, but it was done well. Eli was skipping the introductions because he didn’t want them to know things about him. Even Eli didn’t want to think about how he might answer those questions.

“Fine. Go on, then. Talk.”

Oh. Well, that was just a bit easier than he expected. He had planned for Tommy to go off on at least two more full-length rants before this point. It’s just as he said, his plants never went well.

“I’m from far away. I live by myself; I provide for myself, and I fight by myself. However, I have reason to oppose the tyranny this land is currently subject to and I think it’s time to return to civilization for a good, old-fashioned revolution. I’ve been watching you guys since the war with Dream, and I believe in L’manburg more than any of the other nations. I’m entering the picture now because I know about the bombs and I know about how Quackity is helping Tommy to bring Wilbur down from that. In so many words, I’m here to help.”

Eli got blank stares in return, for at least 25 seconds. He watched as Tommy and Wilbur exchanged glances, changing from incredulous to suspicious.

“And how would you know that? You could just be working for Schlatt,” Tommy pointed out.

Eli’s nose immediately crinkled in disgust. He thought he’d be totally ready to hear that name again, but he clearly wasn’t. His heart dropped and he felt his fingers begin to tremble. It was a solid point that Tommy made, though. They wouldn’t understand that Eli was just that good at his job until he could prove himself to them.

Either way, he sighed in response. “Yeah, I saw that coming. But, whatever. You have every reason to be distrustful. But I’ve been living alone for three years, so I had quite a bit of time to collect resources,” he paused, breathing in in the slightest bit of preparation he could manage. “If you’d be so kind as to notice the four chests behind you. Each is labelled for you. Inside, you’ll find full netherite armor, each enchanted with Protection IV. You’ll also see some toolsets, scattered supplies, and three Totems of Undying each. You can try not to believe me, but seriously, just look in the chest.”

And they did. Tubbo wasted no time, immediately turning his back on Eli, unfamiliar as he was with him. Tommy and Techno hesitated, yet followed, and Wilbur waited until he heard Tubbo’s unbelieving gasp and Tommy’s whispered curse that he turned to finally check for himself. Each man opened one of the chests up against the wall, and Eli could not deny the pride and arrogance he felt as he took in their respective reactions.

“Wow! He’s not lying, Wil,” with that, Tubbo immediately grabbed the armor and began to replace his own iron set with it.

Tommy sputtered, “Wait, Tubbo! It could be a trap!”

But they each waited, and even as Tubbo removed the armor from the chest and placed his own inside, nothing happened. And nothing happened when the other three followed suit. 

“You do realize how this looks, though, right?” Techno directed his question at Eli, his first time speaking since the ordeal began. “I mean, you show up one day completely OPed with absolutely no explanation?”

Eli only shrugged. “I do realize that, but I was hoping you all would make the smarter choice and trust me rather than killing me and stealing my things. Which you could do, I’d point out. I wear no armor and even with my skills, I couldn’t win 4v1 with just a bow and arrow.” Eli probably could win that fight, but it wasn’t quite necessary to let that slip just yet.

“I say we trust him,” Tubbo chipped in, and of course he did. Tubbo was already fully decked-out in the armor, munching cheerfully on one of Techno’s potatoes. Eli knew Tubbo was thinking logically, but the younger gave of the impression that he was being oblivious and naïve. That could be helpful.

“Tubbo,” Wilbur began, but was cut off by an eager Tommy. 

“No, Wil, he’s right. They both are actually. We could just kill him so easily and look what he’s brought. There is no fucking way he would give all of this to us if he was on Schlatt’s side. What could we lose?”

Wilbur was biting on his tongue, Eli could tell, a nervous habit Eli had begun to notice. Eli, himself, would probably end up picking it up as well at some point, seeing how easily Eli adopted the traits of those close to him. 

“I…” Wilbur gave a heavy sigh, and Eli knew it was wearing on him to make this decision. He knew that if Wilbur was alone, he’d have no trouble, but choosing when Tommy and Tubbo’s fate depended on his choice was simply much more. “I suppose.”

Tubbo jumped on his heels like a toddler at the announcement. He immediately began babbling on about talking to Niki and Eret and even Quackity, though Eli still had his doubts about the latter. 

“I swear to the fucking gods, Whalien, if you fuck up, you are dead,” Wilbur affirmed. Eli expected nothing less.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

. . .

From that point, things progressed smoothly. Too smoothly.

Eli hadn’t met Quackity or Niki, and everyone agreed that they should keep it that way. Quackity still wasn’t totally trustworthy, and Niki just wasn’t around much. They hadn’t really planned on letting Eret in on it yet (Eli certainly did not fail to notice the disgustingly palpable tension whenever Tommy or Wilbur managed to come into contact with the king), but Eli had been spotted with Tommy as the two snuck into “Manburg” to check on things. From that point, Eret had been sworn to deadly secrecy, and Tommy was still quite angry about it. 

During the day, Eli helped with whatever they asked of him. He had other things he could’ve been doing that were probably more helpful than assisting Techno in farming potatoes, but he wouldn’t argue. He wanted them to trust him with smaller tasks before they let him build an instant potion brewer—which he was planning on, by the way. 

By night, however, Eli snuck into Manburg under the cover of darkness. Wilbur had protested vehemently, but Tommy and Techno both supported Eli when he argued his capability by citing the fact that none of the skilled Pogtopians had been able to catch Eli in the six months he’d been observing them. Wilbur, obviously, gave in.

Eli travelled alone, despite countless attempts by Tommy and Tubbo to join him. Eli was supported by Wilbur in this, and left the two teenagers no choice. 

He would leave as soon as the sun set—on foot, too scared to bring a horse into danger—and find a different vantage point every night to watch the happenings of Manburg.

So far, there were practically none.

Quackity and Schlatt could barely speak to each other, but Schlatt certainly suspected nothing. He dragged Quackity back into his Vice-Presidential duties as if nothing had ever happened. Eli watched Quackity closely, and was almost entirely positive that Quackity was on their side. He observed Q when Schlatt had his back turned. He caught the snipe that Q would let slip into his tone in subtle disrespect and disregard. Schlatt never acknowledged it.

George rarely showed, but seemed unbothered and cocky when he did. He practically refused to discuss the situation about Pogtopia, repeatedly arguing that they were not a threat and that Schlatt would be wasting resources if he attacked. Quackity seemed to force himself to agree.

When George was absent, Fundy was allowed to step up. The foxlike man was George’s complete opposite. He was far too excited to be included in their political dealings, even when Schlatt ridiculed and offended Fundy right to his face. He kept a strong smile, but Eli caught the way his expression twitched into anger for less than a second. Eli accredited his noticing this to his own special training. He had no doubt that the self-obsessed Schlatt would never question anything. When Eli would return at night to sleep, he often found himself thinking about Fundy. He had almost convinced himself that Fundy was on the edge of betraying Schlatt, and maybe already had. He wouldn’t confront that for quite another while yet, though.

Ponk and Punz came together, and rarely. Punz liked to keep entirely separate, and Ponk had been by so little that even Eli had basically no insight on him. He was apparently a doctor.

Alyssa and Callahan were basically myths. They were each only mentioned, never seen.

Sapnap visited fairly regularly, though it was clear that he took nothing seriously. He wouldn’t do so, not until Dream did. Karl came with Sapnap. He almost never showed without Sapnap. He didn’t seem to be at all interested in the conflict.

Ah, yes. And then there was Dream. 

Eli had seen him only one time. He had dropped by for a gloriously unscheduled meeting with Schlatt (once Eli got over the shock, he had reveled in the confused and annoyed expression on Schlatt’s face) and bothered him for about three hours in the middle of the night.

Dream discussed how Schlatt was using his land. He scolded him and he hit him with backhanded insults, to which Schlatt could offer no response given the fact that L’manburg had still technically been on Dream’s land, and therefore Manburg would have to follow the same guidelines. Unless, of course, Schlatt decided to counter that decision.

(Eli and the other Pogtopians wouldn’t really mind that.)

Eli found himself watching Dream more than listening to him. To be fair, Eli definitely could tell that Dream was mostly there to mess with the President. But Eli watched him. He would stare at Dream’s mask for far too long. He knew the mask was meant to intimidate him, but he found himself surprisingly comforted by it. He assumed Dream and Eli kept their identities secret for very different reasons, and yet Eli still related to Dream. He knew that if he ever needed to, he would have far too little apprehension in trusting the older man.

He wouldn’t exclude the others on the land. Bad, Skeppy, Purpled, Ant, H. Bomb, and Sam were certainly deserving of attention. Sam, especially, was much more powerful than Schlatt would ever see coming. Eli would love to see Sam snap. 

And yes, Eli had been avoiding Schlatt, thank you very much.

He hated to admit it, but during Eli’s first night of scouting, he had had absolutely no progress due to the massive panic attack triggered by seeing Schlatt’s face for the first time in years. He had failed to block out the memories and the voices, despite the mental preparation he’d done beforehand. Schlatt was too powerful, and Eli absolutely couldn’t stand the fact that Schlatt could hurt him like this without even knowing that Eli was alive. He had done better the next night, but he wouldn’t lie, and he knew that he had certainly had to force himself to turn his attention to Schlatt on more than one occasion. 

But all in all, he’d done good work. 

He couldn’t quite call himself close with the other boys just yet. He wanted to, but he didn’t trust them (he maybe never would, but that was a separate issue), and they did not trust him.

However, Eli wanted them to trust him. For many reasons, admittedly. He knew that one of them was because he really did want to be a part of this nation, and not just a tenuous ally, but he would not acknowledge that.

Eli found himself, yet again, formulating a plan that would definitely not go his way. 

Sure, he had gifted the Pogtopians more than they could ever want. He asked himself what, if anything, he could to do give them all a stronger sense of connection. They had everything they ever wanted, except for power and control of L’manburg. 

Or did they?

He knew this would probably go badly.

He would do it anyway.

That night, when he thought about what he could possibly due to make himself appear even better of an ally, a friend, two words came to mind. 

. . .

It would have to wait, however. Eli knew it would be foolish of him to pull out all his stops in one go. He’d save that move for much later, and damn, his theatrical heart was fucking loving it. 

For now, Eli trudged back to camp (he’d taken to calling it this due to an adverse reaction to calling it Pogtopia, L’manburg, or, gods forbid, home) and hoped that the others were well asleep. He’d discovered that he rather disliked the awkward process of return, much akin to a “Hi, honey, how was work?” and a subsequent “Great! What’s for dinner?” 

Now, more than ever, he had quite the most dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach. Intuition was surprisingly not one of the many things Eli prided himself on, and it was frankly quite embarrassing how terrible he was at sensing danger, but the night was especially eerie, and he had a horrible feeling of eyes on him.

He was only minutes from the poorly disguised entrance of Pogtopia, but couldn’t shake the paranoia, and found himself quickening his step. He dug through the dirt with entirely too much force, almost tripped over his own feet in his effort to descend the hazardous stairs, and was met with unexpected silence. 

Pogtopia was empty. 

And now, Eli was faced with a super fun decision. 

Did he sit, and wait, and try to assume that all was well, and that everyone was fine, or did he venture right back into the open, where he’d literally just ran from like a frightened toddler, in a heroic attempt to ensure that his people were safe.

It wasn’t much of a decision.


	2. Of Course, He Doesn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, two-and-a-half new characters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I go, thanking you guys AGAIN for the support. ESPECIALLY if you're here from Tommy's Interlude, it has almost 400 fucking hits? I understand that's not like a LOT but holy shit, for me it is. I know it's been a minute since I updated this, and it's really not that amazing, so I'm not expecting much. I did end up deciding to wait until after the war to post this, and then I had to restructure pretty much the whole plot. Since then, though, I've been grinding this out. It's longer than last time!

So there he was, shivering and cursing his own luck in the middle of a forest, completely unlit, resolution quickly descending.

Eli knew he had to go after them, of course he knew that—what if something had gone wrong?

He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been out here, wandering. Eli wasn’t sure, but that one tree looked awfully familiar. And he could hear water bubbling, but had no idea where it was coming from. He was completely lost, and it had taken him this long to admit it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, short and incredibly to-the-point. 

But then he heard something new. At first, Eli brushed it off as that damn water, or his own imagination acting up in desperate need for some change in scenery, but after a few minutes, he began to see the flickering, wild light of torches and was at least 90% he wasn’t making that up.

Switching the flip into espionage mode, Eli immediately made an effort to soften his footsteps and crouch slightly. He knew that even if someone was looking right at him right now, they wouldn’t see Eli. 

“…as well as does Quackity; that is great grammar!” Schlatt’s voice was unfortunately the first to hit Eli’s ears. Quackity? Was he there, or was Schlatt talking to an advisor? Or perhaps himself? (This is entirely plausible.) “Yeah, okay, see…I feel like this is a predatory way of writing a contract.”

Eli froze.

A contract?

“…no, you just want the fucking building, buddy.” That was Quackity’s voice. Unmistakable as it was.

What. The. Fuck. 

Eli had to go. He had to get back to Pogtopia, he might even have to run, he had to tell Wilbur and Tommy. They’d been betrayed. By a betrayer. They’d been double-betrayed. He had to—

A sudden movement. 

Eli had come forward just slightly, but it was enough to see that Quackity and Schlatt were alone at the podium. Eli couldn’t see their face; he was behind the podium. But he could see…

Tommy?

And there he was, loud and present as always. Eli was stunned Tommy hadn’t ratted himself out yet.

Tommy looked to be alarmed. Panicking, almost. Eli followed Tommy’s eyeline and understood why. 

There was Wilbur, laying on his belly atop the NASA building. And behind him stood Ponk, almost floating on a stack of hasty scaffolding. Wil hadn’t seen him.

Well, fuck.

But before Eli could attempt to do anything, Wil frustratedly plucked his comm from within one of his layers of clothing, and his eyes widened. Eli watched Wilbur whip his head around, far too fast, far too noticeable when Wil sat precariously with enemies on all sides of him.

But Ponk?

Without a single word, Ponk tossed a sack towards Wilbur, and descended the scaffolding he’d previously rose on. Eli had to squint, but when Wil finally snapped himself out of it and dumped the contents of that sack onto the ground, one single arrow came tumbling out.

Now, either Ponk was mocking them by giving Wilbur only one arrow, or the arrow had something special about it. Eli’s guess was the second, but he couldn’t even begin to guess why Ponk, of all people, had given it to Wilbur. He didn’t really need to find out anytime soon.

Everyone’s attention flicked back toward the podium. 

“You’ve completely removed page three?” Schlatt had asked. 

Eli watched in horror as Tommy stood straight, and drew his bow up to shoulder-level. 

Fuck. No! Tommy, you idiot, put that thing back where it came from or so help me gods!

He had to do something. Tommy was going to shoot, and he was going to miss (there were two pillars, a fence, and a massive fucking throne in the way, and Tommy could barely land a shot on a stable target.) and then whatever stupid fucking stunt they were pulling would be down in the dust, in seconds.

Eli barely thought before standing up as well. He was so much closer to Schlatt. It was so much riskier. But he did it anyway, and abandoned all of his instincts to stay low, and stay quiet, and he made a scene.

Not too big, of course, but he pushed his rapidly thumping heart into the pit of his stomach and rapidly waved his arms, jumping around like a fitful toddler. 

It did the job, apparently. 

Tommy whipped his head to the side, saw Eli, and immediately withdrew the arrow. He did so mostly out of shock, but it accomplished the necessary purpose.

Eli levelled what he hoped was a truly discerning glare at Tommy, gave him words through his eyes (“Fucking. Try me.”) and did not let up until Tommy put the arrow away and let his bow drop. 

“I’ve had too many people try to slip little clauses in there…” Schlatt said. Eli barely felt secure enough in Tommy’s good sense to let his attention fall away from the younger, but he had no choice. Eli didn’t even understand what was happening right now. His only hope of making it out of here with any shred of knowing was to listen.

Eli’s eyes flicked momentarily toward Wilbur, and his heart fucking dropped into his stomach to see Wilbur was aiming a bow of his own at Schlatt. He was about ten seconds away from giving up when he saw Wil check his comm again, and drop the bow just as Tommy had.

Trigger-happy rebels. 

“Can you just sign it and we can get the hotel started today?” Quackity sounded nervous. His words were choppy, and he was way too agreeable. If he didn’t pull his shit together, the whole operation was doomed. 

Eli had no idea what the fuck was in this contract they all wanted him to sign. But he had no doubts that whatever it was, it would fail. This was too easy. Far too easy. And Schlatt was misleadingly clever. He’d find out eventually. 

The only question was how severely they’d fail.

Fuck, if they had just included Eli in this…

He knew he didn’t have a right to that. He’d been here for like a week. None of them trusted him, and he didn’t blame them. 

But Eli knew he wouldn’t have been this stupid. 

“Just sign it and we can go,” Quackity practically begged.

“But I really want to know,” Schlatt said, and Eli figured he was the only one that knew the man well enough to sense the amusement in his tone. “What’s at the end of this document?”

Eli felt the air around him tense. Wilbur and Tommy visibly shrunk, their fists tightening. So that wasn’t quite of the plan. 

Quackity was scrambling for purchase. “I’m doing hammer curls!” He yelled. “Look, I’m doing crunches!

“Listen, give me the book and we can—we can reschedule…another meeting…” Quackity was a horrible actor. He was so out of character. If Schlatt didn’t already know, he certainly did now. Eli shook his head as he felt his stomach sink even further into the pit of his feet.

“You know, I was here yesterday, and I…I noticed something funny,” Schlatt said between labored breaths.

“Y-yeah?” Came Quackity’s frankly poor attempt at feigning normalcy. “What’d you notice, man?

“There’s a hole under the Cry-About-It Monument.” 

Eli wasn’t an idiot. 

He knew where the fuck this was going. 

He could only hope that Wilbur and Tommy would be able to catch on soon as well.

“Yeah, yeah, I forgive you for that,” Quackity interrupted.

“There’s a hole under it, and I…I found something, Alex,” Schlatt had just called Quackity by his real name. “And I found…explosives.”

Eli stopped listening. Schlatt was still rambling on, and Quackity was frozen, but Tommy was already on his way to Wilbur—fucking hell, Wilbur—and Eli needed to intercept them.

He keep his steps light until he was far enough from the podium, and then he sprinted around behind the tower, catching Wilbur and Tommy just as they descended from the roof of the NASA building. Eli watched them both freeze, but keep moving at Wilbur’s push.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tommy asked.  
Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him, but Eli honestly couldn’t have cared. “Doesn’t matter. You’re idiots. The whole lot of you. Go. I’ll get Quackity.”

They were hesitant, but Wil began dragging Tommy towards the tree-line as Eli travelled the opposite direction, eyes on Q. 

“I have no idea what that’s about,” Quackity was claiming, almost sounding close to tears. 

Schlatt interrupted him, “It’s funny that I find these things right after our little, you know, break-up. Huh? You know what I did Quackity? When I saw all the TNT you had planted there?”

“I didn’t, it wasn’t me!” Quackity was frantic, losing all his composure. He was going to get himself killed.

“You know what I did?”  
Schlatt didn’t get to tell them. Quackity broke character and ran, very obviously communicating with Wil and Tommy through his comm. He hadn’t seen Eli. “He fucking knows; let’s get out of here!” Quackity kept repeating. 

Quackity came careening directly toward Eli, and still hadn’t seen him, so Eli reached out and grabbed his collar, spinning him around as Eli slammed a hand over Quackity’s mouth. In his defense, Quackity seemed to understand very quickly, and had no trouble following Eli when he began running in the direction he’d sent Wil and Tommy away to. 

Before they could even make it ten feet…

Before they could even pretend to feel safe. To feel like at least they had made it out alive.

Schlatt’s voice boomed above them, around them, and Eli realized with a fraction of a heart attack that he was on their tail. And close.

“He’s tailing us! He’s tailing us!” Tommy was shouting, and Eli really wanted to smack him in the ear and say No fucking shit. 

By the time Quackity and Eli even caught up to Tommy and Wilbur, Eli had just then realized that the body he’d been dragging along had only been a shell of armor.

He would’ve been able to figure it out much sooner had it not been for the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but after wondering if Quackity had fucking died, Eli was able to finally understand that Wil hadn’t shot Schlatt, but Quackity, and he’d done so with an arrow laced with invisibility.

Okay, fine. That was fine.

“Through the trees!” Tommy had screamed about four times, and Eli had thought this was obvious as well, until he saw Quackity literally standing in the open in shiny, reflective armor, and wondered briefly if saving his dumbass life had been worth it. 

Quackity turned briefly, half-running backwards. “Listen, listen, Schlatt—”

“No, no, no. Just go, just go!” Tommy hurried. 

“Let me tell you something, Alex,” there it was again. Schlatt using Quackity’s given name against him. “If you’re running back to Pogtopia, I wouldn’t fucking do it. Because guess what I did with the TNT big man?”

Quackity froze, and Eli had to forcefully drag him by the collar to keep him moving. Eli couldn’t even see Tommy and Wilbur, but he could hear Tommy shouting half-thought-out orders, so Eli tried to locate him through the tree-cover, pulling the stunned Quackity along with him.

“What the fuck did you do?” Tommy asked, surprisingly calm.

Once again, Eli wanted to shout in his face.

Why don’t you take a fucking guess, Tommy? Why don’t you use your context clues? Your mortal enemy has just discovered an entire loot of TNT under his country and said that he moved it somewhere else. I wonder fucking where? You’ve done it again, Tommy. You and your confidence, screwed us over once again. Why isn’t you can’t seem to believe that Schlatt has a brain? Why is it we’re stuck here, running for the fiftieth time in two weeks, from a man you only relate to alcoholism?

Eli wasn’t being fair. Tommy didn’t know Schlatt like he did. But as long as Eli kept his mouth shut, he’d allow himself to be mad.

Eli couldn’t speak, he knew he couldn’t. Why go all this time and end up giving himself away to Schlatt in the end, all because of Tommy? 

“I found the TNT you guys were working with, and I paid a little U-Haul truck to take it somewhere.”

Onwards. Dragging Quackity. Eyes flicking back and forth. Where’s Tommy? Fuck you, Tommy. Where’s Tommy? I have to keep Tommy safe. Where’s Wilbur? What has he done? 

“I mean, imagine it. What would you do if you found out your best fucking friend, your partner in crime, had betrayed you? Had plotted to destroy my nation? My nation…” Schlatt trailed off, letting them come to their own conclusions.

Forward, just forward. There was that fucking tree he’d seen so many times earlier, so they were close. And Schlatt, he was lagging. He wasn’t even trying.

Eli could hear Quackity behind him, denying it, pleading against it. 

“Well, if we kill you right now, who’s gonna detonate it, huh?” Tommy yelled, and that’s when Eli turned on his heel, almost crashing Quackity into the ground, and realized Tommy was standing there, bow drawn, about three feet away from Schlatt. Wilbur was nowhere to be seen.

In his surprise, Quackity wrenched away from his grip and stood by Tommy’s side. There was nothing Eli could do to stop them. He wouldn’t risk revealing himself. Not yet.

“Let’s just say, uh, the dominoes have already been set into motion.”

Quackity and Tommy were losing it. They couldn’t control their senses. Even from here, Eli could see Tommy’s fingers trembling violently on the strings of the bow. 

Fuck.

Eli had to do something. He had to fix this; get those two away from Schlatt while he still had the chance.

He knew, logically, that he could leave. Quackity and Tommy would fend for themselves and honestly, Tommy deserved it. 

Of course, he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t…

He wasn’t…

“Gentlemen,” and with that, Eli had never been fucking happier to hear Wilbur’s voice. “Do not press any buttons in Pogtopia. Do not press any buttons; I’m serious.”

Tommy and Quackity whipped around to face Wilbur, and it was almost as if they were just now realizing he’d been missing. That was probably the case. 

“What? Wha-why?” Tommy asked, face falling at the sight of his once proud leader.

“The TNT’s gone,” Wilbur answered solemnly. “I checked.”

And Tommy had never wanted L’Manburg to be blown up—Eli knew that—but he didn’t miss the way his shoulders immediately sank. 

“Enjoy your day!” came Schlatt’s humor-filled voice, and it was then that they realized he’d already run away.

They wasted no time. Or rather, Eli wasted none.

Within seconds, he revealed himself from the shadows of his current hiding place, let Wilbur, Tommy, and Quackity process his presence, and then tipped his head in the direction of Pogtopia, speaking without words. They listened, and all four of them began walking hastily back towards what could possibly be their own imminent death. 

While they walked, Tommy demanded Wilbur explain what he’d seen. Eli payed almost no attention but from what he could tell, Wilbur had run while Schlatt went off on his tangent, and pressed the button—which, what the fuck, Wilbur—and had nothing happen. Upon further inspection, he found nothing but stone behind the button. It was gone.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Quackity said. “Can we acknowledge this dude? Who the fuck are you?”

Oh, right.

“I suggest you don’t expect an answer until we are safely within Pogtopian borders,” was the only response Eli offered.

Behind him, he heard Quackity begin to argue, but was silenced with a huff at what Eli assumed was one of Wilbur’s warning glances.

Soon enough, that dirt wall that was just inconspicuous enough to blend in came into sight just over the bottom ledge of a cliff. This time, Eli stepped to the side to allow Wilbur to do the work of breaking down the dirt wall, very tensely and pointedly ignoring both Quackity’s and Tommy’s glances toward him every other second. He had no idea how to go about this. He wasn’t planning on having to deal with Quackity anytime soon, yet here he was, having revealed himself, many of his talents, and his alliance. And maybe Quackity really was on Wilbur’s side, willing to follow him into battle, but before Eli knew that surely for himself, he wouldn’t be going into any rooms with Quackity alone. It didn’t even matter if Eli could most likely take the older boy out in one shot. 

He didn’t have to ponder for long.

As soon as Wilbur had broken enough of the dirt to peer inside, he gasped quite dramatically and stepped away, as if in shock. Eli perked up from where he’d been leaning against the side of that dirt wall, but was too slow, as both Tommy and Quackity managed to snap their attention away from Eli just long enough to catch their own glimpses of what was inside.

When Eli finally elbowed Tommy out of his way, he had to contain a very violent verbal reaction to the sight before him. This time, he did not wait for Wilbur to finish with the wall. Eli haphazardly removed what was left of it and stepped inside, feet placed ever so carefully to avoid the buttons scattering the walls, ceiling, and even the floor. Tommy followed silently, and soon enough all four of them were so cautiously traversing down the slim staircase, absolutely lined with buttons, dreading what they’d see at the end. 

Eli’s body was wracked with chills. He was fighting to keep his shaking hands out of sight. Any of these buttons could activate that TNT. Hell, maybe all of the buttons did. 

“What are these?” Quackity asked. “What the hell is this?”

And the hysteria was renewed. “Don’t press anything,” Wilbur warned, and there was no sense of hesitance in his voice.

Eli hated to think it, but maybe, just maybe, this would be the slap in the face that Wilbur needed to break him out of his stupor. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tommy added, though it seemed like he was trying to calm himself more than Quackity. “As long as it doesn’t get worse than this.”

Eli, who’d become the first to see the open expanse of that Pogtopia ravine, wanted to tell Tommy to knock on wood. 

Buttons.

So recklessly strewn, everywhere in sight, that even Tommy was stunned into silence. 

Well, for a moment, at least. Within a few seconds of taking it in, Tommy exclaimed, “What the fuck?” and was completely back in character. This, effectively, set Quackity off as well, and soon enough, the two of them had shouldered past Eli, crouching and moving along trying to see just how far the buttons went.

Wasn’t it ironic?

Buttons. Of every shape. Of every color. Placed over chests, and furnaces, and bookcases. Placed on redstone blocks, and covering the expanse of the floor.

“I don’t know who put them there,” Wilbur called, above Tommy’s labored breathing. And Eli looked at Wilbur, took in his solemn expression and his relaxed shoulders, and knew he was telling the truth.

“Take them down, take them--,” Tommy cut himself off, and with a cry in a defeated tone Eli had never heard him use, continued, “There’s too many to take down!”

“Jesus, Christ,” Quackity chimed in as Eli finally began following the path Tommy had taken, down the stairs and into utter chaos. “Wilbur, did you fucking do this?”

Eli almost opened his mouth to speak, but Wil beat him to it. “No,” was the only answer he gave.

Quackity wanted to argue, Eli knew that he did, but noticed that Tommy seemed satisfied, so he relented. Eli watched as the two of them ran around, placing toes in the spaces without buttons, travelling around, hoping to see a spot clear of them.

When Eli heard Tommy exclaim in high-pitched horror, “There’s more!” he knew the hope had failed. 

“You realize if we start taking these down, we might press… the one,” Quackity helpfully provided. He was right, but Eli and the massive pit slowly settling into place in his stomach wished he hadn’t said it aloud. 

“This is wonderful,” they all heard Wil say, and Eli didn’t even bother to turn around.

Tommy, however, did. “W-Wilbur, this is your new home; why would you want this blown up?”

“Oh, I don’t…” and for the first time, Eli saw Wilbur hesitate. He saw the words get stuck in his throat. He saw him think about it, let the impact of his words register before he’d even said them. “I don’t have a home. Let’s be honest.”

It seems he covered it well, because neither Tommy nor Quackity even took notice.

“Isn’t that your diamond, Tommy?” Wilbur asked, moving on a little too quickly for a man who was meant to be acting so unbothered.

Tommy followed his vision, and for a second, everything felt normal. Eli felt like they weren’t on the outskirts of war that would undoubtedly tear everything to pieces, and he felt like he was part of it. Like he was allowed to be.

“Yeah, I should probably get that,” Tommy said, and began attempting to scale the wall in order to retrieve it. 

However, to everyone’s horror, Wilbur decided it would be simply hilarious to just push the button directly under the diamond. 

The room descended into chaos. Tommy was yelling, as he does, and Quackity was scurrying to destroy any of the buttons in Wilbur’s general vicinity while the older man laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. All Eli could seem to do was watch on, as if from behind a glass pane.

“No, no, Wilbur, stop! You don’t understand!” Tommy exclaimed, but Eli had a feeling Wilbur understood just fine. “You didn’t hear what Schlatt said! He said one of these buttons detonates TNT under Pogtopia!”

“Oh, I don’t think it will,” Wilbur sighed dismissively, that hint of amusement and mocking still lingering in his tone. “He could’ve disconnected the redwiring and kept the TNT, I dunno. We can go and check. Hell, I still have a couple stacks of TNT from Dream!”

He gave this information with a cheerful tone.

Quackity was muttering “no” under his breath—perhaps he was in shock; he hadn’t been able to form many other words in the last hour or so—and Tommy intervened as calmly as he could, but they all knew he was struggling to maintain control. “Well, you don’t need to use any of them.”

“Yes, but, I-I will,” Wilbur answered with another joyless laugh. “It’s Chekhov’s Gun, we’ve spoken about this Tommy.”

“Chekhov’s Gun?” Eli had stepped in before he even knew that he was going to. The words were out of his mouth before Wil had even finished speaking. “Chekhov’s Gun, Wilbur?”

Wil was startled—they all were, and Quackity had gone on the defense, like he’d forgotten Eli was there, and honestly, he probably had—but answered with some attempt at composure. “Yes, you see, it’s a metaphor—”

“I know what it is,” Eli interrupted with a bit of a snap in his tone. His instincts told him to reel it in, but for once, he let it slide. Let Wilbur feel Eli’s voice piercing him and let it cause him even just a second of reevaluation. “It’s a literary device. You think this is a story?”

No answer. 

“Fine, then, it is. You’re still using it wrong. It says that every element of a story must be necessary. It patches the plot holes. You’re using it as an excuse. You wave the button—and what’s behind it—in everyone’s faces as a threat. Then you say Chekhov’s gun is the reason you have to push it and it isn’t. You’d be completing the literal meaning simply by letting the threat accomplish the necessary goal of scaring everyone a little bit and then letting it completely go, so you’re either an idiot or you’re lying. I don’t know which one is worse, at this point.”

Eli’s speech was met with silence. Wilbur dropped his eyes to the floor from where he’d previously been staring right at Eli, as though he could even see his eyes through the mask and the hat he was wearing. 

“Can you please,” Quackity said, gesticulating in a manner that communicated his exhaustion with the situation. “Explain who the fuck you are.”

“I’m Whalien.”

That’s not the answer Quackity wanted, Eli knew it wasn’t, but after a long day of dragging Quackity around and being apparently intellectually superior, he felt he’d earned himself a bit of badgering. 

Indeed, Quackity had crossed his arms over his chest and just glared.

“Quack, listen. You can trust him.”

Eli never would’ve expected Tommy to come to his defense, yet here he fucking was. “Honestly, he showed up like a week ago with full fucking netherite—enchanted netherite—a shit ton of tools and fucking totems! Of undying! Like more than one!”

Admittedly, Quackity did seem fairly shocked, and examined Tommy’s face to see if he was joking or lying before scanning Wilbur as well. Neither spoke, and neither gave any visual indications. At least nothing Quackity picked up or cared about. 

“You trust him?” Quackity finally asked. Eli winced, and Tommy sputtered, no complete words coming out of his mouth.

Eli shuffled forward, drawing Q’s attention yet again. “Of course, he doesn’t.”

He forced himself to send a genuine grin to Quackity, and watched him relax. He looked back at Wilbur and Tommy again, and whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. “Fine, then.”

“So, Wilbur,” Eli moved on. It’s not like they had fucking time or anything like that. “Not mad or anything, but could you perhaps explain why you tried to execute a trick mission on Schlatt without even mentioning it? I understand I’m not in the gang or whatever, but I had to get back here to an empty base, and honestly, if I were you, I’d be pretty happy that I decided to come looking for you.”

“No, you’re right, I know,” Wilbur conceded, and his body language was telling Eli that he didn’t feel like fighting. His own aura immediately affected everyone else in the room, and Eli felt even himself let the tension from his muscles. “I should’ve told you. You’ve proven to be completely trustworthy and a fucking amazing ally, but I…wanted to believe that I could do it myself.”

“You could’ve,” Eli answered, and he ignored that it was partly because he didn’t like seeing Wilbur like that. “Or at least, it wouldn’t have gone any better if I’d known. I would’ve just told you not to do it, and you would’ve anyway, and we’d be here again. I’m not stupid. I understand that I have a way to go before you truly let me in. You have every right, you all do. I saw—I know more than you think about what happened here. I don’t expect you to trust me. I do expect you to fill me in even just slightly, even if it makes you feel like I’m your mom asking where you think you’re going dressed like that, for my own health.”

And if he were fair, Eli knew that even that was too much to ask. They’d given him so much already. They’d fed him, included him as much as they could. If he were in their position, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Eli gave himself a lot of credit. In all honesty, he did it because he felt like if he didn’t have too much confidence, he wouldn’t be able to keep any at all. He had reasons to doubt himself. Plenty of reasons. So, his solution, however unhealthy, was to completely overdo it, and let the pretend play carry him along. It worked well enough, until something like this happened, where Eli got so caught in his own half-fake ego that he expected too much from someone who had too little to give, and ended up in this situation.

Even then, he couldn’t say any of that. Wilbur was not the only one guilty of not trusting those around him. 

The four of them sat in silence, after Wil gave a solemn yet firm nod at Eli’s request, and it seemed they were all just coming down from the adrenaline of it all. Eli realized that his hat was halfway off his head to the side, and took a moment to adjust himself. 

“Listen, I…” Wilbur began, and his tone gave no hope to any of them that anything he would say next would make them feel any better. “I’ve just commed Fundy. He’s on his way.”

“Why?” Tommy asked, before Eli got the chance. “He’s on Schlatt’s team.”

“He’s…” Wilbur trailed off. “Not.”

Tommy’s face scrunched up in dissatisfaction. “What? What the fuck kind of an answer is that?”

“Tommy, I’m telling you. Fundy’s not on Schlatt’s team. He’s not on ours, but he’s not on his. And if worse comes to worse, he’s completely outnumbered, if that makes you feel any better.”

Eli knew that it certainly did make Tommy feel much better. He loved stabbing shit.

“Doesn’t answer the question of why, though,” Quackity pointed out, and Eli just hummed in agreement. 

“I think,” Wilbur began, but seemed to struggle with his words. “Look, Schlatt gave off some very heavy insinuations that he wasn’t the one who planted the TNT here, and I don’t know who else would’ve. Fucking…George? Please.”

“So why the fuck would you bring him here? If it was him, then he knows which one of these fuckers blows the whole thing up!” Quackity asked, and Eli could practically feel the other man’s blood pressure climbing. 

Wilbur sighed, trying to keep calm. “I just told you; Fundy’s not on Schlatt’s team. I don’t think he did this. I’m going to ask him outright. If he says yes, fine. Kill him. If he says no, then maybe we have a chance at an ally.”

Quackity bit his tongue, but Tommy did not. “Hmm, yeah, but you see, there’s this super fun thing called lying. What the fuck is your plan if he does that?”

“Tommy, will you just fucking trust me for once?”

“No! Why would I? You’re trying to fucking blow up my fucking house!”

“Wait, what?” Came a new voice. 

Eli balled his fingers into a fist and closed his eyes, repeating some of the stupid breathing exercises he’d learned once to keep from drop kicking Wilbur across the room.

“What’s this about blowing up a house?” Fundy asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you want to talk about the happenings of the SMP (because what the fuck, I'm in shambles) you can find me on tumblr @/softnotlizzie ! this is definitely where I'm most active, and I reallllllllly like interacting with people, so that's where I am most of the time. Perhaps, leave a comment if you enjoyed? LOVE YOU ALL MWAH


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